Silence and Salacity
by Bunnyx
Summary: Silence, solitude, and coy open the door to a being of exceptionable behavior. She has the door, he holds the key. May the salacious games begin.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

For my friend Sarah,

and anyone else who has had these troubles.

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><p>Silence and Salacity<p>

Prologue

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><p>No Recipient<p>

It's hard for me to say these things in person. It's hard enough for me to write them out. Yet, even though your words are simply etched markings of a dulled stone, why do they make me feel this way? I ask myself this everyday, and I've come to a point where I'm in denial, and I know it, but I'm in denial of knowing that I am in denial.

I want to ask you if words like these are better written out or to be said face to face, but I'm too afraid to bring it up. Maybe I'll write it to you later.

Do you think if someone wrote so many words to someone else that they would run out of words to say in person? I hope not, because I want to say as many words aloud as I can to you. But do you think it's possible that if someone wrote so much, even more so than can be said in person and with so much intention that someday those words would actually come true? I don't know, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like if some of those words we write about became reality. I wonder if we would be happy, and if other people are thinking the same thing and whether or not they would be happy.

I know you probably don't think about these things, especially with me in mind, but I want to know out of all the words you've written to me so far, which one is your favorite? If I had to choose, I'd choose a word that is really meaningful. One that can be interpreted in so many good ways. One that fills the gap with lively light and beautiful aromas of flowering bliss that warms the body to a tingle. That's why if I had to choose, I'd say my favorite word you've written to me so far is _blossom_.

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><p><em>[Save to drafts?]<em>

_[Yes]_

_[No]_

_[ Cancel ]_

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><p><em>[Saved to Drafts]<em>


	2. Desire

_Silence and Salacity_

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><p>Whenever Sakura felt intrusively utilized for the benefit of another, she always remembered some advice her father gave her during her early childhood.<p>

"All men are predators." He managed to slip a demeaning boy comment in most of his advice. "If you encounter a predator, remember their weakness—"

He abruptly said no more. Her father had a habit of not finishing his sentences. She presumed that he figured she would fill in the missing puzzle piece or drop the matter altogether.

Despite her father's concern, Sakura never had problems with boys, for none took an interest in her due to the geek reputation she carried, so she defined 'predator' as anyone manipulating her for their own personal gain. The interpretation seemed befitting and she could not think of anything else they would want from her.

Seven years passed and Sakura still could not conceive the weakness her father adumbrated. She was not the type to be hung up on one thing, but seeing as the advice retained some of the last words she remembered her father say while he still lived happily at home, sometimes she caught her mind's clockworks spinning as the machine worked intermittently to solve the puzzle. Lately she had especially been turning the thought in her hands, kneading each word to a ground pulp in hopes chewing would be easier than swallowing them whole. However, her efforts bore fruitless. She realized some mysteries were better left unsolved. Yet, her hunger was not quite compensated. Something more dwelled beneath the shadows of those words, something increasingly salient as the days crawled by, despite the frivolous eloquence of his speech. Her father was no fool, she knew that much, so she could not shake the feeling that his advice relayed an ominous message she should precaution. But was it really as prudent as she thought? She regretted doubting her father, but she carried atop her plate a full dish of school work and logical reasoning. She had no time to interpret a deeper, and a possibly unbelievable truth behind his capricious outbursts.

_"But I want to."_ She shook her thoughts aside and drummed her fingertips across the desk, trying to fill her mind with any minute distractions.

The thought scared her. Wanting the archetypal is earthly, but wanting truth is like opening the ebony attic door of the knowledge abyss. Take one wrong step and you end up plummeting down the stairs. Take one right step and you find yourself wishing you never sauntered forth from the door. That was why Sakura did not want to trouble herself with these thoughts. She lived a normal life in a normal school with a normal geek reputation that suited her just fine. There were no predators to be feared at school, at least the ones her father was afraid of, and she had no worrisome boy troubles whatsoever. Now her main interest was to maintain her current status and make sure it did not lower. The last thing she needed was to become paranoid about the silly words of her father.

Still, there was a tiny nagging voice at the back of her mind whispering incorrigible thoughts into her ear, and Sakura knew that someday those words would burst into shades of fleshly purple.

Chapter 1

_Desire_

Her friend was coming back home today. Well, she was not too sure whether she could call her a friend or not. They were childhood playmates, but only for a fleeting amount of years and it had been so long ago. Surely the girl must have forgotten, and Sakura doubted that someone would want to remember a pink-headed geek.

A pink-headed geek. That's exactly what she was, but she never would have thought such a trait would have brought her to the hands of Ino.

Nevertheless, the past is the past. Her only yearning thoughts were of the future ahead, and she hoped Ino would be apart of it.

Sakura laid out some of what consisted of her summer clothes; a few baggy t-shirts, a pair of jeans and shorts, two camisoles, and an oversized cardigan. Scanty range of options, but summer was almost over, so they would have to do for now. There were very few things she carried in her pocket, and money wasn't one of them.

As she arranged her clothes in the closet, her eye caught a stolid white; the mirror's reflection of the white coat's flamed emblem adorning the headless lay figure that stood ever so peacefully in her room. The coat belonged to her father, and it was one of the few reminders of when he used to live in the house. She managed to overcome the complicated situation, but that wasn't the case for her mom.

She lost both a father and a mother that day. It happened on a Sunday. Her father had been working an extra day to finish rebates his co-worker threw at him last minute.

"Daddy, will you come home for dinner?"

Her father smiled and bent down to kiss her forehead. "Of course, my little cherry blossom. I'll be home before dinner, I promise."

Ten o'clock rolled around and her father had yet to come back. Her mother was worrying because the night sky was growing darker and darker, and it had begun to rain. A knocking sound on the front door an hour later alleviated her mother's anticipation, but when she turned the knob she found a police officer standing at the porch instead. Sakura did not hear all the details. All she remembered was her mother crying.

After the police man left, her mother sat on the couch a little ways from her and made not a noise. It was not until later that night when she had gone to her room did Sakura hear sobs coming from across the hall.

Her mother did not speak to her for a week. In fact, she really didn't do much of anything. Sometimes Sakura would find her in the kitchen making food and throwing the whole meal away without eating. Other times she would find her repetitively cleaning the same spot in the house and mumbling to herself like a mad woman. Most of the time she laid in bed all day. But out of all the factors capable of serving as implications, Sakura noted most of all that the spirit that once lived in her mother's eyes had died.

Recovery took a while, so Sakura had to take care of herself. "The mending of a broken heart cannot be rushed," as her mother would say. Sakura was too young to understand heart break, but she cared for her mother and herself anyway. She went to school, brought food home from the market, cleaned the house, tended to her mother's ailing, and carried an open heart for others around her. Not that they cared much anyway. Especially when she became old enough to understand loss and demonstrative accords.

After that night her mother had never been the same. At times the fire in her eyes would ignite again, but always faded away as soon as it blazed. Her mother had made it through though, and she was in good health. If her heart still needed tending, her hunger definitely did not because despite her mother's flourishing appearance she furthermore desired aid. For this reason Sakura began to harbor much annoyance towards her mother. It was always "Sakura do this" or "Sakura do that," and her tone of need was always quite demanding. Instead of hearing orders Sakura wished at times her mother would ask her what _she _wanted to do and maybe hear a remark of appreciation every so often.

"Sakura!"

She sighed at the familiar voice. Ignoring it was no use, but she tried anyways.

"Sakura! Are you coming down for breakfast?"

Her anger clicked as her mother's tone heightened. _Calm down Sakura, she's just asking you to come down for breakfast. _Reluctantly, she got up from her hard desk, which she found reposeful, and slumped down the stairs towards the kitchen. She saw her mom washing a glass cup and setting it on the table.

"Thank goodness you came down. I was worried that I'd have to eat alone."

Sakura let her eyes drawl around the kitchen before inspecting the table.

"But there's only one plate of food here."

Her mother pointed a finger to her chin. "Oh yeah... Well, you took too long so I ate," she said innocently, pressing her thumb to her chin as well in a sort of thinking pose. "But I left dishes for you to clean so there's plenty to do!" And with that she left the room.

Sakura stared at her food. One egg and two pieces of bacon. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. On top of that, she believed the dishwasher to be broken because when she pulled it out the front handle came off.

Today was going to be a long day.

—

—

—

"Oomph," she huffed as she collapsed onto the couch. Today was not too bad. At least with all the work she had she did not have to listen to her mother talk.

She dug up the remote that was buried underneath the couch cushions and flipped through channels. Nothing particularly good was on, until she came upon channel 39.

Konoha Idol? The towns folk had been talking about this show. Apparently the final episode of who will be officially announced as Konoha Idol was supposed to air this Monday at six o'clock in the evening. Multitudes of people conversed about the day, starting off their morning chats at Shamrocks Coffee with "who do you think is going to win?" or "this person doesn't deserve to win!" Once she overheard a boy arguing to another that so and so would win because they had better hair. Even a girl the other day at a coffee shop had asked Sakura who she thought was going to win. Sakura had heard of the show, but never seen it so she could not add to the commentary. Perhaps now she could. She might as well keep up on what's 'hot' right now, so she mentally noted the time and date before changing the channel. She would watch the final episode on Monday, the others did not interest her.

Channel after channel she indolently surfed, leisurely lifting her head to the clock and calendar hanging on the wall. Monday, that's nice— wait, Monday! That's today? She looked over to the clock. And it's 6:54! The whole show was almost over! Her hands fumbled with the remote as her fingers tried pushing the correct buttons. Finally she reached the channel. The last two contestants were standing on a wide staged platform and bright lights beamed down their necks. One of the two looked fairly recognizable, but the other Sakura had completely no clue to who he was. Surely they must be sweaty from nervousness. Even on TV, celebrities aren't _that _perfect.

The atmosphere had changed and the lighting dimmed as the tension elevated.

_"We've got the votes of the judges."_ The contestants faces were strained in a rather painful manner, looking as if they had headaches._ "And the new, Konoha Idol is—!"_

_ "Vroom!"_ The host's voice was droned out by the sound of the lawn mower from next door.

WHAT? Mowing his lawn at seven at night? That damn neighbor!

She turned up the volume on the remote, but it did not do much good. It was one of those old crusty lawn mowers. The type that takes forever to start up and sounds like a dying walrus when it does.

After reassuring herself she could not read lips, she tried looking for any indication of who won. It was hard to tell. Both were crying and hugging each other while the audience was no help at all. They just sat there and clapped.

Damn neighbor mowing his lawn at the wrong times and putting his damn pet flamingo in her yard.

The rust bucket finally stopped dying and she could resume to watching her show.

_"And we'll be back after these short announcements!"_

"Ugh," she sighed and laid her head back. Oh well, it's not like anyone at school was going to ask her about the show.

Her mind wandered to the approaching month. School... it never was one of her favorite places. Even though she was very smart and did well in school, she did not have fun. There was no enjoyment in her classes, and even though she could not wait to escape the student-filled classrooms, when lunch rolled around she had no where to go. When the last bell rang she would walk home alone like every other day of school. She hoped as an upcoming third year she would get the gist of high school and all its facets, and perhaps be apart of the social interactions instead of hanging back by the wall. That was why she really hoped Ino would be her friend again. Ino was an expertise at the art of social interacting.

If only she knew how to come about the task.

_"Are you a nerd?" _The TV flashed blinding colors on the screen. _"Have no life in school?"_

The pink head abstractedly nodded.

_ "Then you're in luck, because today I'm changing you from a nerd to a boss! I used to be a nerd, but with the help of Charlie's Makeovers I got made into a baller. You wanna be like me? Then get out of that nerd gettup and text NERD to 1-800-BALLIN."_

"They want you to text them?" Sakura scoffed.

The jerky TV host man pointed a finger to the screen._"So order now, nerd."_

"Lame." Sakura turned off the TV. Problems like this aren't that easy to rectify.

She let her head fall back again on the couch and stared at the ceiling. The drywall was cracked in certain areas, more profoundly near the hanging lamps which eluded from the smooth surface. The once raw umber color of the paint had faded to a light tan, and since then her mother was always complaining about how she wanted to paint it white. Looking at the ceiling just made her more and more wistful each time.

Abruptly she sat up, a light haze storming in the orbs of her eyes.

"Mom!" Sakura called.

A muffled groan ensued from upstairs. "What?"

The pink-headed girl shot up from the couch and rushed upstairs to her mother's room.

She approached with caution; she had to procedure this delicately.

"Mom?"

Another groan arose from under the bed sheets.

"What do you want?" her mother groused as she waveringly looked up.

"Can I have a cell phone?"

Her mother gave her daughter a puzzling look. "What do you want a cell phone for?"

The girl averted her eyes to the left. "So I can call people."

"Who would you call?"

"Um..." Wow, she had got her there. Quick, say what parents like to hear. "I would call you, and dad," her mother frowned a bit at the last part, "... and you."

She did not seem very convinced.

"You know, for emergencies. If I go out to buy things for you, or if I need to go to someone's house for a project." She stopped talking because the look on her mother's face retained much exertion.

"But Sakura, you don't have a car."

A rock dropped in her stomach. "Uh, well, yeah I know that, but if someone was giving me a ride. I'd want to call you to tell you where I am."

Her mother sighed and slouched back onto the bed. "Can we talk about this later?" she morosely cried.

"Yeah." The pink head defeatedly shut the door of her mother's room and traipsed to her own.

Of course it was not going to happen. Why did she think it would in the first place? The growing desire for change, for a breath of cool air? It would not have made her any less nerdy, so she might as well cross out the word 'cool' from her dictionary. At this point, she had no idea what 'cool' was, or how to become 'cool'.

She fell into her wooden chair and rested her elbows on the desk.

What puzzled her most was how she wanted to be cool. Since when has she ever tried to act cool? Certainly not at school; she knows her place. Perchance this whole fancied envision was brought upon by the words of her father as a sort of fear response. The growing loom of his intimation had not left her, so it sounded feasible.

Thinking about the ramifications chilled her blood to stone, although the shudder might have been due to the agape window. Laggardly, she rose to halt the flowing air but paused for a short moment at the sill. Past the backyard on the outskirts of the houses, she could see a boy standing near the hem of the forest. He carried a black suit with strange red symbols arrayed on the cloth. He gently set the suit on the roots of a large cypress tree and posed himself in a sort of deplore. Ten seconds passed, and it was enough; he was gone.


End file.
